


On the Edge

by Jenn1



Series: Legends of the Dark Knight [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Gap Filler, Gen, Gotham City Police Department, Missing Scene, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenn1/pseuds/Jenn1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Blake has just confronted Bruce Wayne with the knowledge of who he really is, but seemingly unsuccessful with getting his aid. Wanting to help Jim Gordon out in his time of need, Blake only went to the Commissioner's apartment to pick up some things for him, but he ended up picking up the phone after hearing the voice of a frantic Barbara Gordon instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Old Wounds

 

~o~o~o~o~

Officer John Blake put the key in the lock of the door; it opened easily enough, though it was on noisy hinges. Blake took in the living room as he stepped into the Commissioner's apartment. The green sofa was worn, and so was the cream recliner, which had appeared to have coffee stains on it at closer inspection. There were a few pictures on the wall as well on the shelf hanging on the far wall. The tan rug on the floor was also old, and looked like it needed a sweeping.

As Blake walked into the room, an old family portrait caught his eye. It had to be at least five years old, but looking closer, it must be older. The woman in the picture had to be Gordon's wife, Blake knew right off. Never officially stated, but it was whispered among other officers at the GCPD that the Commissioner's wife had left him seven years ago. They separated but never divorced.

The young boy and girl in the photograph had to be the Commissioner's children. He could not recall their names, though. They had been young in this photo, no more than about ten and eight. Living in an orphanage, through his pre-teen and teen years made John able to judge a person's age.

There were school photos of both the boy and girl on the shelf that was against the wall. Some had been taken in grade school while others when they were older, high school age. The young blond haired boy in one picture had grown steadily after several photos, he was now a young man and his blond hair had darkened to brown. The young girl with her hair in pigtails matured from a pre-teen with braces into a young woman with reddish blond hair down to her shoulders.

Glancing back at the family portrait again, John mathematically counted back the years to when District Attorney Harvey Dent, Gotham's own White Knight died. The eighth anniversary had just passed a few days ago. The same night the Batman had murdered him, another person, as well as two cops, and also a notorious mob boss, or so it stated in the official statement, by James Gordon. What Blake had asked him a few nights prior though was who he thought the Batman was, Gordon's confirmation was he did  _not_ know who was under the cowl. Although he suspected that the Commissioner was hiding something about that night. The younger man knew better, he knew that the Batman had taken the blame for it. The question was why? The rookie cop had his suspicions that the Commissioner knew the answers, but would not answer his questions.

He wondered if going to Bruce Wayne's home this afternoon had been a bright idea. Blake confronted the man about his suspicions on who Wayne was. John had been astonished to see Wayne walking around with the aid of a cane. The wealthy man did not hold the image of his billionaire playboy self, let alone the once legendary feared Batman.

Thinking back on it, sharing his story, John thought of his own past. The memories of St. Swithin's and Father Reilly, the place he had just visited only a day or so ago because of the dead kid he was investigating in the sewer came back to him.

John never shared that much of his past with anyone before. Then again, he wondered how many people knew or figured out that Bruce Wayne was Batman. To be more precise Wayne  _had been_  the Batman. Blake wondered what changed Wayne so much that he stopped being the Dark Knight. It was true with the Harvey Dent Act, violent crime was almost nonexistent, but there would always be crime.

Wayne was nothing more now but a recluse, worse he barely was a shell of the man he once was. John hated that, but he at least tried to talk to him.

 _What's done is done_ , John thought.  _Is Wayne going to do anything with the information I divulged to him, though? Is Batman, even after an eight-year abandonment?_

Once the young cop had said what he had to he had not stuck around. No sooner had Blake got into his patrol car there had been a dispatch; one he would have answered had another one of the guys beaten him to it. Being a rookie for a year now, and only barely a half a dozen arrests, he would jump at any call he could get. That opportunity lost, he decided go to the hospital. John wanted to see how the Commissioner was doing; he had not seen him since he pulled him out of the water from the sewer the previous evening.

The Commissioner had not looked good. Gordon was lying in a hospital bed hooked up to machines, which monitored his vital signs that were disturbingly low.  _At least he was alive._  John was thankful that he listened to his instincts about going into the sewers to search for the Commissioner. It still angered the young cop that Peter Foley had been foolish to try to wait before looking for him. He was the Deputy Commissioner, and he would not go and look for the Commissioner? Had Blake followed his superior, the Commissioner would be dead.

The Commissioner had not really been resting but had managed to talk to Blake a little. He had wanted the rookie cop to get him some things from his place. So here he was at Commissioner Jim Gordon's apartment on an errand to get him some things.

_Of course it wasn't like I'm the Commissioner's errand boy now._

John really did not mind. It gave him something to do and the Commissioner did deserve to be more comfortable in the hospital. He would be more alert and have lower pain medication in the coming days.

The errand itself were for Blake to get things like - a change of clothes, mostly sweats, a robe, toiletries, and any files the older man had been currently working on. That sort of surprised the rookie in a way, he knew that the Commissioner was dedicated to his work, but to the point of bringing files home?

The place certainly lacked a woman's touch. The apartment looked too much like a bachelor pad, much like John's own. This one was big enough to fit a family, not a single man.

Blake only meant to peek in the kitchen; he knew he was prying. Maybe it was out of habit from being a cop. Maybe he was just plain curious to know how Jim Gordon lived.

The kitchen was a bit of a mess. There was a coffee cup in the sink, the dishwasher had dirty dishes in it, and the trash bin had almost nothing but take out tins it. The table had files stacked on it, but they were at least neat.

John shook his head sadly. He knew that the Commissioner was practically married to his job, but that was pathetic. Blake knew he should not do anything but he set out to quickly set the coffee cup in the dishwasher, and give a quick scan to see if there were any other dishes before starting it. Blake gave the counter, sink as well as the table a quick but efficient cleaning, after he grabbed the files. Once the files were placed in the living room, he came back to take care of the garbage. As John took the bag out of the can, and wrinkled his nose slightly at the odor. The young cop had smelled a lot worse growing up during his brief time on the streets after leaving the orphanage. He took it out and tied it closed. He would throw it out when he left.

Blake's own place was not perfect, but it was home. After being on the streets for a few months when he was a teen had taught him some things that most people did not know. Despite almost no one knowing his past, that did not mean that people knew nothing about him. The guys at the police head quarters knew some of the general stuff, that he was an orphan; his parents had died when he was kid; and that he got bounced around in the foster care system.

They did not know however that his mom had died when he had been very young, in a car accident; it was something he barely remembered. His dad, he had never really been around after that, nor had been much of a father. All the same it was not fair. John became an orphan at the age of nine because his old man got shot from a stupid gambling debt.

Why was he even remembering this now? Was it because he revealed it to Bruce Wayne less than an hour ago? That could be the reason.

As Blake headed down the hallway, he saw most of the doors were closed. He passed one that was the bathroom, and the only door that was open was at the end of the hall.

The bedroom was nearly as bad as the kitchen in its own way. The bed was unmade, but sheets did look like they half-heartily pulled up to look somewhat neat. There were dress shirts hung over the knob of the closet door along with a tie. The room itself was mostly bare save for the bed and the bureau. On top of that sat some more files. Next to the files were a few books. Looking that the titles, John was not completely surprised that the Commissioner had a taste for classics. Pulling one out of the pile, he decided he would put it with the Commissioner's things. Gordon could not just do nothing but look over files once he was on the mend.

Going over to the closet, Blake found a duffel bag on the top self of a hutch. He set out getting the clothes and other items out of the dresser before moving to the bathroom for a toothbrush. Blake found that along with toothpaste and a comb. The Commissioner had not specified if he wanted any shaving equipment brought. He noticed the robe and grabbed that for him also. Once he put everything in the bag, except the files, he left the room.

John made his way back to the living room with the duffel bag and the files. He now had everything and there was nothing left to get. All Blake had to do was take out the trash. Grabbing the bag, he quickly went outside and went around back to put it in dumpster.

The cop had the bag with the Commissioner's clothes, and his files under his other arm. Just as Blake opened the door to leave the phone began to ring. He stopped, wondering if he should just leave or stay long enough to at least catch the message on the answering message. John figured it couldn't be the Commissioner; he was took weak yet to call anyone. Sighing, he paused, waiting to listen to find out who the person was.

The phone went to the answering machine, the voice on the machine was not Gordon's but a woman's:  _You have reached the home of the Gordons'; please leave your name and number and a brief message after the beep. But if you are a telemarketer, my husband 'will' arrest you._

Blake was not sure what surprised him more, hearing the woman's voice on the machine, or that the woman's voice was the Commissioner's wife.

_The Commissioner still-_

The voice that came over the answering machine shook him from his thoughts quickly. " _Daddy, this is Barbara. I've been trying to reach you. Where are you?"_

John felt bad for the young woman; she must be out of mind with worry. He could hear the anxiousness in her voice. Blake hesitated, debating whether or not to pick up the phone. Her next words though made his decision.

" _I haven't been able to reach you on your cell, and I'm not getting an answer on this phone either. If I don't hear from you by tonight, I'm going to get a plane ticket to Gotham, college tuition money be damned."_

Quickly setting the bag down on the floor along with the files, John ran for the phone. The rookie was thankful he remembered noticing in the kitchen, resting on the headset, which meant he did not have to hunt for it. Blake hit  _Talk_.

" _So I better hear from-"_  she stopped as soon as John picked up the phone.  _"Daddy?"_

"No, I'm not him, Ms. Gordon," Blake started. He could not continue when she interrupted.

" _Who is this?"_  she demanded to know.

"Officer John Blake," he introduced himself. "I work under your father, Ms. Gordon."

" _Where's my father? What's happened to him?"_  Although the young woman demanded answers, Blake could tell her voice held fear and worry.

John did not think it was wise to sugarcoat the truth from her. At the same time, unlike confronting Bruce Wayne earlier with the same information about the Commissioner, he could not share what had happened in the sewers. The only reason he confided in Wayne was because Batman needed to know.

 _A lot of good that did,_  John thought sarcastically. He wondered if Wayne even cared what happened to Gordon, the billionaire's expression gave nothing away on that matter one way or another.

"He's at the hospital recovering from gunshot wounds. None of them were life-threatening," Blake added quickly. "He's a bit weak from blood loss, but he'll be fine in a few weeks."

" _He was shot?"_

"Yes," he went on to explain. "He was shot in the upper chest near his right shoulder and also another one gazed his lower left side missing his kidney."

" _Was there any other injuries?"_

"No, Ms. Gordon." John lied. Though the Commissioner's near drowning may be counted as an injury, Blake could not tell his daughter the cause of it. But what else was he going to tell her if she demanded to speak with her father?

"Please call me Barbara," she requested of him, which was something he had not expecting her to say.

"Ah, sure," Blake answered a bit uneasily, one with lying to her, and two she was the Commissioner's daughter. He simply did not feel comfortable being on a first name basis with her. He sure as hell was not going to tell her  _his_  first name.

There was silence on the other end for a moment, but she stated,  _"I still plan to come and see my father. I still plan to get that plane ticket."_

It was Blake's turn to go silent. Finally when he spoke he tried to with care, "Listen," he paused, "Barbara, that might not be such a good idea."

_"Why not?"_

"Your father's recovering, but I'm sure he would want to ensure you that he was going to be fine," he told her. "I can give you the number you can reach him at."

" _I'm pretty sure he's not going to want me to come down,"_  she darkly uttered.

John did not say anything; he kept any comments to himself. She did have a right to worry of course, her father nearly died. But at least she had parents to worry about. That pain never faded.

"Would you like the number?" Blake asked instead.

" _Yes, please."_

John knew the conversation was going to be coming to a close once he gave her the number. "Is there anything else I can do?" The rookie cop doubted he could much else, but he felt that at least offering was a kind gesture all the same.

" _No, that's all. Why are you at my father's apartment, anyway?"_

"Just getting some things for him," Blake answered her, keeping it to the point.

"That was nice of you to do for him."

He was not sure what to say to that. So he replied, "I would just wait at least until tonight to call him. He was resting last I saw him," Blake informed her which wasn't quite a lie. John figured if he tried getting her to put off calling the Commissioner she would just came to Gotham on her own. Although that still seemed like a high possibility.

" _I'll call tonight,"_  she affirmed.  _"And… thank you for being there."_

"It's not a problem," John ensured her, "I'll let your father know you'll be in touch with him."

" _Okay. Good-bye."_

"Good-bye," Blake hit  _End_  after he heard her hang up. He put the phone back on the headset.

John went back to the living room to grab the duffel bag and the files so he could go back to Gotham General Hospital. It seemed like fate was not on his side today.

Blake had to answer a dispatch on his radio just as he left the apartment. It looked like the Commissioner was going to have to wait for his things. It was not like he was alert enough to go over the files anyway.

Since Blake's partner, Tyler Ross, had the day off and was spending it with his family that had left the young cop to handle any call that he got on his own. The call came in from a teenager whose charge they were watching had gotten their head stuck between two posts of a fence in the backyard. When Blake got there, the child was breathing normally, though the little boy had a few red marks and scraps on his hands and neck from trying to get his head back through the fence.

After trying to keep the sitter calm and have them keep trying to reach the child's parents; John talked to the child about cars. It was the thing that children enjoyed and kept him distracted from his predicament, until the fire department came ten minutes later. While the fire department got its equipment to cut one of the boards from the fence, Blake continued to talk to the young boy to keep his mind off of what was going on.

Just as they were almost finished with the board the boy's mother came home. She would have ran outside hadn't one of the firefighters stopped her. Blake had a harder time keeping the child's focus from what was going on. By the time he feared the child would try to struggle to free himself, the board was lifted and he was free. As soon as a fireman got him and he was on his own two feet he flew to his mother's arms in tears.

As Blake got back into the car again it was late afternoon, and the sun was starting toward its descent in the western horizon. He just figured he would head back to the police HQ to drop off the patrol vehicle and finish up for the day. He would have to write up a report about the incident with the child.

 


	2. The Call

 

~o~o~o~o~

Blake had written his report, and now it was finished. He decided to have a cup of coffee before he went to the hospital. The young cop knew it was getting late, but he still had some time. He wanted to drink the still lukewarm beverage in peace, so he headed for the elevator to go back outside. Once the doors closed, John found himself pressing the up button to the top floor instead of down.

When John got on the upper floor, he made his way to the rooftop. It was slightly strange that he was going there, since it was not a place the rookie frequented. It was understood at the HQ that it was the 'Commissioner's spot'. Probably it was because he spent some of his late evenings up there.

 _Or maybe it was because he hoped to see Batman one night,_ John thought.  _He was not the only one either_. Blake walked across the roof facing the west as he turned toward the setting sun. The rays were hitting the skyscrapers of Gotham in ablaze of colors; red, orange, and yellow.

In his peripheral vision, Blake saw the beacon that had been a part of Gotham for nine years. Walking over to it, John touched the broken searchlight; he wondered why the GCPD still even had it. The Commissioner was the one who had broke it eight years ago. At least that was what he had heard. It had long been cold and dark, its flame burned out. The young rookie wondered if there could ever be something to start it again.

_Come on, Wayne. If the Commissioner is right about Bane and this army he's got, and if they're planning something, Gotham needs Batman. Because if you don't come back; we're all screwed._

Turning back around he let his gaze look over the city; John realized that Gotham went on; unaware of anything going on a beneath her feet. It would remain that way wouldn't it? Blake only let out breath and headed for the door with his untouched cold coffee.

It was the end of his shift, so Blake changed out of his uniform into jeans and a long sleeved shirt. John put on his Gotham Rogues jacket that had seen better days. He left the station to go to Gotham General Hospital.

When Blake got there, he saw the cop seating out front of the Commissioner's room was a different one than there had been earlier. The GCPD did not want to take any chances; there was a very real threat down in the sewers. Whether it was some masked man named Bane was up for debate.

He could see the Commissioner was sleeping; his breathing was still somewhat labored. He wondered how long he was going to need an oxygen mask to help him breathe. The doctor on his case said it was depended on how the Commissioner's condition went during the next few days. As long as his breathing improved he should be off it within a week.

He put the duffel bag in the room's closet, while removing the toothbrush, paste, and robe to put them in the restroom. Blake went back into the room; he set the thick batch of files carefully on the rolling meal table at the end of bed. John took off his coat and hung it behind one of the chairs.

He had hoped to talk to the Commissioner even for just a little while. Blake was relieved to see the man resting, after the trauma he went through the night before. John knew the Commissioner could be in a medicated induced sleep.

He could wait, John supposed, he didn't have anything planned that evening. The Commissioner did not have anyone around here, no family, they had moved away a long time ago. John knew all about that so what would it hurt to stick around?

He then remembered that the Commissioner's daughter was going to call the hospital room that evening. If she didn't get a hold of her father, she would get a one-way plane ticket to Gotham in a flash.

 _Damn_. Blake had completely forgotten about the phone conversation he had with Barbara that afternoon. He had hoped the Commissioner would be awake and could talk to her. Because he knew that if he talked to her again, she would not listen to a word he said.

He glanced at his wristwatch, it was twenty after six, and visiting hours would be over at eight. Blake hadn't brought anything along to read when his eyes fell onto the files he had put on the meal table.  _Were the files for the Commissioner's eyes alone, or could anyone see them?_  Blake thought, not knowing if he should look at them or not.

Getting to his feet, Blake went over, and picked up the file on top. He had not glanced at the names on the flaps when had grabbed them earlier. The name on it read:  _Crane, Dr. Jonathan._

John did not know much about Dr. Crane, only that he had used experimental chemical on people. There was not much known on it, only that it seemed to make the patients mentally unstable, when they were normal people before.

Sitting down again, Blake opened the file to look over it. The new psychiatrist that had taken the place of Dr. Crane was a man by the name of Hugo Strange, who had his PhD in psychology. He had taken Crane on as patient, so what Blake was seeing was a patient report from Arkham. In this one Professor Strange had wrote:

_Dr. Crane was at one time employed as a psychiatrist here at Arkham Asylum, with a degree in psychopharmacology. The patient has a curiosity in how fear affects people. He tested a chemical of his creation known as 'Fear Toxin' on inmates of Arkham as well as some Gothamites, with disturbing results. The people he would infect with this toxin would be perfectly sane individuals. Once Crane met with them, they would be ranting about someone called 'Scarecrow'. He would testify that the person was unbalanced and insane and would need to remain at Arkham._

_The patient at times mumbles the word, 'Scarecrow.' I have asked him about this name, and he does not explained in further detail. I am to believe that he could be referring to himself. Not just that but for the burlap sack mask he wore on more then one occasion. Since it has been reported the other patients he had under his care had also ranted on someone called the 'Scarecrow', furthers my belief it is him._

The phone suddenly rang bringing John out of his reading. Quickly getting to his feet, caused some of the pages to fall out and onto the floor. John swore silently, but decided to leave them there in order to get the phone so it would not wake the Commissioner.

Grabbing the phone as it rang again, he answered it. Blake knew right off his tone held annoyance.

There was a beat before,  _"Hi. Is this Commissioner James Gordon's hospital room? This is his daughter, Barbara."_

"Hello, Barbara. This is Officer John Blake again," Blake tried to keep his voice low so he did not disturb the Commissioner's sleep.

" _I seem to be talking to you a lot today, Blake."_

"Seems that way," Blake didn't mind she kept to his last name, though he still did not like being on a first name basis with her since he did not know her at all.

He continued on, "I hadn't gotten a chance to let him know you would be calling, I'm sorry," John was truly apologetic. He wished he had done as he had promised though it could not have been helped. "He's been sleeping since I've been here."

" _I see. I guess that isn't you're fault."_

John glanced over at the man in the bed and realized that either the phone ringing or his talking had woke the Commissioner up.

"It looks like he just woke up, though. Hang on for a second," Blake covered the mouthpiece of the phone before giving his attention to the man laying in bed. "Commissioner, your daughter is on the phone. She called your place earlier today because she's worried. Do you want to talk to her?"

Jim Gordon's eyes were bloodshot. His complexion usually a healthy color was very pallid. He reached up to remove the breathing mask that covered his face. "What did you tell her?" the older man's voice was low and raspy, but Blake could hear it. How the Commissioner knew he had told his daughter about the night before, John did not know.

"Just that you got shot and that you were in the hospital," Blake informed him. "I tried my best to ensure her that you were on you're way to recovery. Nothing else." the younger man answered him giving him the phone.

The Commissioner answered it in the same raspy tone he had talked to Blake with, "Hello, Babs?"

Blake went over to the chair trying not to listen to anything; the Commissioner's side of the line was quiet. He bent down to pick up the loose papers that had fallen moments ago. He stood again when he heard the Commissioner speak again.

"I did get shot a few times," the Commissioner took a labored breath before speaking again. "I'll be fine soon."

Putting the papers back in the file, John moved around the bed, to leave. He should at least join the other cop outside the room; then he could come back later. He did not have to listen to a private conversation the Commissioner was having with his daughter. When Blake motioned that he was going to leave, the older man held his hand up enough to stop him.

Stopping, he waited to see what the Commissioner wanted. As the other man listened to his daughter on the other line he gestured to the chair Blake had vacated before. Going back over, he sat back down and opened the file still in his hands. He did not even look through the disorganized file.

"No, you just started your senior year, I will not have you missing any part of your last year just because you want to come to Gotham."

Blake looked at the page in the file he was holding, having looked over Crane's file before Barbara's phone call. Skimming it, he saw it was another patient report from Arkham, though a different one from the other one. Mid-way down Dr. Strange had wrote:

_I have asked him on the vigilante known as 'the Batman', he has yet to tell me about the times he has seen the man, but only one time. The one time he sprayed Batman with his toxin and dowsed him with fire. Some how Batman had overcome his Fear Toxin the next time Crane saw him was when he believed him dead._

_As for the pretenders, the 'fake' Batmen as he has called them don't have the same power in them to install fear in others like the Batman does. Crane believes that the Batman is afraid of something. He would have to be, he believes, but what? That is the question. After all everyone is afraid of something. Something made the Batman-_

"I still say not to come," the Commissioner's voice slightly rose but enough to be heard. He started to cough, with gasping breaths.

Jumping up quickly, John got to older man's side in a matter of seconds. Putting the breathing mask back over his mouth, so he could breathe easier, Blake made sure it was in place. Then seizing the phone up to his ear, he barely controlled his voice from yelling into it.

"Ms. Gordon," he decided to go back to formally addressing her. "Your father is really sick right now, and upsetting him isn't helping," John explained her in tense voice.

Blake glanced at the Commissioner, who was watching him as he breathed into mask he wore. He did not seem to be taking an offense from John taking the phone away from him.

" _I know that, Officer,"_ she answered. _"I was not intentionally trying to upset him, I'm just worried."_  She had also returned to calling him by his title, but there was frustration in her voice.

"I'm sure you are," Blake would not deny that, no more than he denied going by his former name the last few years. "But it would be in your best interest as well as your father's if you just stay in Cleveland."

" _Thank you for your opinion, but if I wanted it I'll ask for it,"_ she snapped at him coldly.  _"But just so we're clear on something, I don't like being lied to,"_ she went on in the same icy tone.  _"I asked if there was anything else wrong with my father, and you told me no."_

"I can't tell you anything relating to police business," Blake answered her not affected by her tone.

" _I've heard that all my life so I understand that more than most. But you could have at least told me,"_ her voice did not change, but she went on with something else.  _"I can wait for a few days, at least until Dad's better when he's able to receive company."_

"But-" John began to protest.

Her voice turned to steel through the phone line.  _"I will be coming to Gotham City, Officer Blake. And no one is going to stop me from seeing my father. Good-bye."_

The line was disconnected before Blake could say anything. Hanging up the phone with more force than necessary, all he could say was, "Damn it."

Blake heard labored breathing before he remembered he was not alone. He looked back at Commissioner Gordon. The rookie had not forgotten the man was in the room, only he had forgotten momentary that the man was listening to everything he had said.

Gordon reached up and took off his mask. "Is she still coming?" he rasped out the question.

Letting out a defeated sigh, he admitted, "Yeah."

"I'll give you my wife's number, call her, she should be able to talk some sense into our daughter. If nothing else, forbid her." The Commissioner went on to give Blake the number.

"She wouldn't run away would she?" John asked.

"No, Babs is sixteen, but she wouldn't do that. She may be impulsive at times, but she's smarter than most," The Commissioner looked at him. "Reminds me of a rookie cop I know." He put his mask back over his mouth.

Blake decided to hold his tongue and not reply. He was not sure if he was being complimented or insulted. Perhaps both.

Even though he could have made the call on the phone there, it would have cost too much money. John's cell phone had free long distance after seven p.m. Looking at the time on the cell, it read two minutes until seven. He would have to wait a few minutes. He sat back down to wait.

Once it was after seven he dialed the number the Commissioner gave him, hoping that Barbara Gordon did  _not_ answer the phone. Why in the hell did Gordon drag Blake into this, or did he just get himself involved in a family affair?

" _Hello_?" a woman's voice answered.

This one was slightly familiar.  _The answering machine,_  Blake remembered. It was Gordon's wife's voice.

"Hello, Ms. Gordon, this is Officer John Blake," he began. "I work with your husband, James Gordon."

" _Hello, Officer,"_ the older woman answered once again. _"My daughter told me what happened earlier, how is Jim doing?"_

"He's got two gun shot wounds, one to the upper shoulder and another that gazed his side. He is on a breathing machine for right now because he took in some water, but he should be off of it in a few days. But the doctors say he'll make a full recovery in a month to six weeks," Blake told her. He got up from the chair and paced from it to the end of the bed.

" _Thank you for telling me this, Officer. Since Babs told me some of this, what new information you just told me I imagine you did not want to let her know. I know how my husband's job works after so many years,"_ the woman told him.

"That wasn't why I was calling, there was another reason," Blake admitted to her. He did not want to think about her last comment she had told him about how Gordon's job was. It must part of the reason the family did not live in Gotham anymore.

John stopped pacing and walked to the window. "Your daughter wants to come to Gotham. The Commissioner tried to ensure her he would be fine. When she didn't listen to him I tried to tell her it would be in her best interest to not come and that her father was on the mend."

" _Is she now?"_  the older woman let out a breath.  _"I'll talk to her, Officer. I know that being a minor, or not, she could still get a plane ticket unless I stop any of her card accounts she has, but I hope it won't come to that."_  
  
"I hope so too, Ms. Gordon."

" _Good night, Officer Blake, thank you for calling me and warning me about what my daughter was planning to do."_

"Good night, madam, and you're welcome."

Turning back from the window he looked back over at the Commissioner. He was watching him, and John figured he had been doing so the entire time. Blake came back over to sit back down.

John took Dr. Crane's file but did not open it. He held it as the Commissioner took the mask from his mouth to speak, "Sorry to ask you to do that."

"I didn't mind," John outright lied to him. "I brought your stuff you wanted to earlier, it's in the closet. Your toothbrush and stuff is in the restroom too. And these too," he held up the file in his hands. "Oh, I brought one of your books too. One of Dickens' works."

"Thank you," he then went on, "You know," the Commissioner's voice trailed off, his eyes were now looking over Blake's shoulder. "If he doesn't come back…"

John knew whom the Commissioner meant. "The Batman."

The older man's distant gaze turned back to look at him intently. "If Bane is planning something, we might be the only ones that can stop him if…" the Commissioner was losing his voice.

Blake did not have to hear anymore. He understood what the Commissioner meant. John was just thinking of it this afternoon when he was on the police HQ's rooftop. If Batman did not return to Gotham, than it would be up to the GCPD and anyone that was in law enforcement to help the people of Gotham.

"I understand what you're saying," he informed Gordon in a quiet voice. "We're the only thing that can stop him and his army."

Question was what was Bane planning? With an army, a number of things were possible. Bane is a mercenary so he doesn't have the same kind of ethics most do.

The Commissioner closed his eyes for a second then opened them. Blake could see he was in pain. "You want me to call the nurse?"

"No," he whispered. "Just need sleep. You did good today."

"Thanks, sir," John replied. "Are sure you don't need anything else?"

"No, Blake. Go home, have a beer for me."

"Sure," he gave the older man a slight smile. "Good night, Commissioner." Blake knew Gordon's night was going to be anything but restful unless it was with the aid of medicine.

Blake put his coat on, he left the Commissioner so he could get some rest. Once he walked outside of the doors of Gotham General, John let out a weary breath and headed for his car. This had not been a great day, emotionally draining in some ways, but it was not quite as bad as the previous evening had been.

Looking up, he saw that the moon was out. As John walked along; he noticed some drawings on the wall of one of the buildings. He stopped. They were mostly childishly drawn, and would have had to be from children that had stayed at the hospital at one time or another. There were things from animals, flowers, space ships, anything a child's mind could come up with.

John was about to walk on when he felt something against his shoe. Thinking it was stone; Blake was surprised to see it was a small piece of chalk. Picking it up, he could see it was white, thanks to the streetlight.

Looking at the drawings on the wall, Blake gave a quick look to his left, then to his right. The sidewalk was empty. It was not like he was doing anything illegal, but he remembered the boy, Mark, from St. Swithin's, and inspiration struck. He began his design.

Studying his handwork once it was completed, Blake was satisfied with the emblem he had drawn. The young cop put the small piece of chalk in his pocket – he would have to remember to throw it away once he got home. Turning, John walked away from the wall of the hospital to the parking lot.

The small animal on the wall was easily overlooked among the other artwork. Its wings were spread outward, and had a small body, with pointy ears. It was plain to see that it was a rough drawing of a bat. A bat that was ready to take flight.

~o~o~o~o~

 _Whoever the Batman is, he doesn't wanna do this for the rest of his life. How could he? Batman is looking for someone to take up his mantle. -_  from The Dark Knight.

**The End**

 


End file.
